


find something else to pretend

by sweetsinnerchild



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Post-Undertale Neutral Route - King Papyrus Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 20:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7188716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetsinnerchild/pseuds/sweetsinnerchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Papyrus is the king, and Sans is his queen.</p><p>It would be a fun game of make-believe, if the first part wasn't so true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	find something else to pretend

**Author's Note:**

> prompted by an anon and inspired by eli-sin-g's [art](http://eli-sin-g.tumblr.com/post/145617382033/eli-sin-g-the-king-papyrus-ending-still-gives).
> 
> background bg: [click here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nBnjLsUqYBY), courtesy of beescream

He doesn’t think much about it after that.

Papyrus isn’t young, but he is idealistic, romantic, everything that Sans isn’t. He supposes it is a pretty picture, two people working in harmony to rule a kingdom that is theirs, the kings and their queens and their adoring royal court; supposes that it was his fault that the stories he chose for bedtime had loyalty and trust and a couple that worked in tandem.

After all, real life was never as pretty as the fairytales. Look at their previous queen - gone without a trace after the King declared war.

So Papyrus probably understood the queen to have a certain function, perhaps as an equal to the king - two cogs that worked to turn a well-oiled machine. But the machine was falling apart and Sans is trying so hard to hold it together, so that whenifwhen- _if_ the kingdom falls, people won’t immediately turn against the royal family.

Heh. Technically they were the royal family, regardless of whatever title Papyrus calls him.

So Papyrus calls him his queen and Sans lets him, just like how he lets him cook spaghetti and lead puzzle building projects while Sans charts out farming subsidies and plans the royal treasury’s budget. It’s another whim Sans can allow Papyrus to indulge in because he doesn’t miss the way Papyrus’ hand tightens unsteadily on the trident too large for him to wield, the way he looks hopeful whenever Sans lies to him about how his friends are not dead.

It’s almost like an apology that Sans can never make. 

* * *

There’s a set of robes on his bed, weeks after that initial incident. Papyrus refers to him as ‘my queen’ and Sans responds almost immediately, and perhaps it has become sort of a game to them, how they’re playing house only that it’s a much larger household and they had royal titles.

Duke didn’t sound quite as impressive as Queen, anyway.

But there’s a set of robes on his bed, soft cloth dyed royal purple - and there’s Papyrus sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at him expectantly.

“I THOUGHT WE COULD MATCH,” Papyrus says - and that’s when he notices a mantle, heavy and regal, draped around his brother’s shoulders. He looks bigger, more impressive, and Sans could almost see the way the cloth would drag along the floor as Papyrus moved from place to place. “PLEASE?“

(Here’s an open secret: Sans could never deny his brother.)

“sure, paps,” Sans says, tired smile on a tired frame. He turns around, shrugging off his jacket, stripping down to his briefs. The robes are heavier than they looked, and he wonders if he would look ridiculous, swaddled in them.

It’s the sentiment that counts, he reminds himself, as he pulls the robe over his head.

The sleeves are too long and the material pools around his feet - all signs of the clothes belonging to someone much larger than him. He sighs, and turns back to look at Papyrus.

“it’s too big,” he says, shrugging, “where did you find this anyway?”

But Papyrus is staring at him, his eyes soft and vulnerable, and Sans stills as he reaches out, as he curls a hand around Sans’ waist, pulling him in. He tips his head down, resting it against Sans’ chest, and Sans lets him.

The mantle is too large, he notes absently, seeing how the shoulder pads drop sharply off Papyrus’ frame. They would need to alter it.

“YOU LOOK,” Papyrus says quietly. “YOU LOOK LIKE A QUEEN.”

His hand tightens. “MY QUEEN.“ 

* * *

They wear the robes and the mantle, altered accordingly. It feels comfortable, as befitting of the royal family’s garments. 

(It feels heavy, duties and responsibilities wrapping around Sans like a slowly tightening noose, a reminder of how their little game of pretend was a sickening sham at best.)

They’re holding court today, monsters from all over the land trickling in to air their grievances. Most of the complaints ran along the lines of economic woes, with production decreasing to match the sudden drop in demand. It sounds so very technical, if not for the underlying context.

 _We’re running out of food_ , to which Papyrus would invite them to the royal kitchens. _We lost our jobs_ , to which Papyrus would enlist them in the puzzle building brigade. _Our motherfatherchildfriend has fallen down._

To which Papyrus will hesitate, before offering his condolences.

His brother has grown - where he had once been blunt, his sincerity has been shaped into something more gentle. Perhaps the Papyrus of the past would have tried too hard to comfort them, promising them things he could have not done. This Papyrus considers what he can do and does everything to give them that.

“We need to strengthen the Royal Guard,” the monster before Papyrus insists, a monster that looks like several rocks smashed together. “Another human might fall down.”

“THE PUZZLES WILL KEEP THEM BUSY,“ Papyrus is saying, and it’s true. Sans made sure that there was no way they can circumvent the puzzles in order to pass through. Even so, he doubts the monster is convinced. “I APPRECIATE YOUR CONCERN, BUT OUR DEFENCE IS IMPENETRABLE!”

True to his prediction, the monster scowls, the fault lines on his face shifting to reflect his displeasure. Before he could say anything, Sans steps in.

“right, buddy,” he says, his grin easy and wide. “you heard the king. if you’re really enthusiastic, you can sign up outside.“

“I’m talking to the king,” the monster grinds out, his face stony.

“and i’m talking to you,” Sans shrugs. “other people are waiting their turn. move along.”

“I’m not done,” the monster snaps, “and I don’t need some unimportant asshole ordering me around!“

The hard way it is. Sans steps forward, ready to ‘escort’ the monster out with the help of some blue magic - but suddenly Papyrus stands up, the base of his trident hitting the floor. There’s an emotion on his face that Sans hesitates to call anger - but it soon dissolves into a smile.

“SANS IS IMPORTANT,” Papyrus says, serious and regal, and Sans can feel his face warm under the sincerity of his brother’s words. “HE IS ALSO NOT AN ASSHOLE. SANS IS MY QUEEN, AND HIS WORDS SHOULD BE CONSIDERED IMPORTANT AS MY OWN.”

Sans blinks.

“NEXT, PLEASE,” Papyrus calls out. 

* * *

This game has gone too far.

* * *

“paps,” Sans says.

“YES, BROTHER,” Papyrus says.

He’s sitting at the side of Papyrus’ huge bed, a worn copy of Fluffy Bunny on the side table. It’s time for a bedtime story, Papyrus likes his bedtime stories, and it’s the one tradition he can keep doing for his brother but, but. 

He can’t go on like this, not with Papyrus throwing around terms he didn’t really mean.

“you’ve got to stop calling me your queen,” Sans finally says, forcing the words up his throat and out of his mouth, because big brothers had to look after their little brothers and his little brother didn’t know better. “it’s… it’s not funny anymore.“

Papyrus sits up, a frown etched onto his face.

“IT WASN’T MEANT TO BE FUNNY,” he says.

“i’m supposed to be your advisor, paps,” Sans continues. His brother has always been reasonable, surely he’ll see sense. “i look out for you that way. the queen… your queen is someone you love.”

“BUT I LOVE YOU.“

“i know you do, buddy. but i mean someone who you’re going to have a future with. maybe a kid or two, little papyruses running around.” His hands are clenching, creasing the folds of the robe, robes he was never meant to wear. “they’ll rule with you by your side.”

Papyrus’ hands suddenly take his, his slighter larger hands curling around Sans’ own. Sans looks up.

“I WANT A FUTURE WITH YOU,” Papyrus says, and Sans feels heat creep up his face once more, with the intensity of Papyrus’ conviction. “I AM NOT QUITE SURE ABOUT CHILDREN, BUT I WANT YOU BY MY SIDE.“

He brings a hand up, and Sans feels the barest brush of Papyrus’ mouth across his knuckles.

“I LOVE YOU, SANS,” Papyrus repeats. “AND WHILE YOU WOULD MAKE A GREAT ADVISOR, YOU WOULD BE AN EVEN BETTER QUEEN.”

Another kiss, this time to the side of his palm, gentle and lingering. “BEST OF ALL, YOU WOULD BE MINE." 

* * *

Sans loves Papyrus.

It was never a great revelation, a sudden realisation that changed his world. It was the quiet trickle of a stream, the adoration and affection and love for his younger brother washing over him in gentle waves. It simply was, and that one day he just managed to put words to the feelings he had.

He had thought, of course, of Papyrus reciprocating his affections. Had imagined Papyrus, bold and sincere, loving him back. But like many things out of control in his life, Papyrus too was out of his control, and Sans had been content to just love his brother as he was, never expecting anything in return.

With Papyrus’ ascension to the throne,  the list of things he could do to keep his brother happy had grown smaller and smaller. Papyrus’ battle body had been kept away in the closet, his race car bed stored in Snowdin. He could not keep the flood of monsters clamouring for royal assistance away from their cold and empty castle, nor could he fix any of their woes.

But he could alleviate his brother’s pain, could take on some of his duties. He could be the shadow behind the throne, transforming Papyrus’ whims into actual policies. He could let Papyrus stay ignorant and happy.

He could let Papyrus pull him onto the bed and into his lap. He could let Papyrus press kisses to the side of his face, one hand curling and pressing Sans into his chest. He could let Papyrus hover over his mouth, waiting and expectant.

Would it be selfish of him, to let himself have this? Or would it be selfish of him to let this become another way for him to keep his brother happy?

"Sans,” Papyrus says quietly.

He looks at his brother, sees the weariness of a ruler. He sees someone forced to grow up faster than they should have.

“You’ve done so much,” Papyrus tells him. “Let me do this for you.”

Another layer to this game that they play. Sans closes his eyes.

He lets Papyrus kiss him. Sans lets himself kiss back. 

* * *

“MY QUEEN,” Papyrus calls him.

“my king.”

**Author's Note:**

> [pssst. too little chapters?](http://sweetsinnerchild.tumblr.com)


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